


Misery Loves Company

by ForbiddenArcanum



Category: Original Work
Genre: Brainwashing, Dildos, Ear insertion, Food Kink, Furry, Goat, M/M, Magic Cock, Orgasm Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slime, This is weird but fun!, Transformation, dragon - Freeform, drone transformation, just like in general, quilava - Freeform, slime boy transformation, slug boy transformation, slugs - Freeform, very slight Break the Cutie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 00:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenArcanum/pseuds/ForbiddenArcanum
Summary: Haunted houses pop up where you least expect them. Investigating the now-abandoned house of a musician at a friend's behest, J8-Bit, Erin, and Matchstick find themselves trapped inside. What they don't realize about this musician's house is that it's not just his work that was transformative.





	Misery Loves Company

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [More Boys With Honey Than With Vinegar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815208) by [ForbiddenArcanum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenArcanum/pseuds/ForbiddenArcanum). 



The building was dark, dim, and decrepit. The shutters rattled and slammed in the chilly Autumn wind, and the porch swing creaked in the darkness, as if trying to call someone forward. Overpowering that, however, was the voice of a young Quilava, gushing about his newest obsession.

“…And then he abandoned it in 2003, just before his world tour later on in 2005, but the really interesting part is what’s between that! The economics of the music industry suddenly shifted, and he was completely out of a job, but one last show saved his band altogether! And this was his house!” Matchstick held his arms out, gesturing to the enormous mansion. As glorious and grand as it was meant to be, it was overrun with ivy and moss, making it look more like ruins than riches.

“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t.” J8-Bit looked around the abandoned property, his goat ears flopping side to side as he did so. “I’m not saying that this isn’t really cool, Matchstick – you know I love listening to your stories! But…” He rubbed the gigantic stinger attached to his backside where his tail used to be. He shuddered at the touch, the stinger itself still slightly sticky. His run-in with the beeboys of Opal Woods was anything but normal, and it had left quite the impression on him. It took weeks of staving off his cravings for honey before he was anywhere near his normal self again. Even so, a month later, the stinger still remained. He was a bit worried it might be permanent… but it did feel nice to rub.

“What I’m hearing, Jatey,” Erin said as he slung an arm around his friend, using the nickname the beeboys had given him. “Is that maybe you’re a little scared? But listen – ghosts aren’t real, blah blah blah, all that stuff, okay? We’re gonna go in, look around, and head out.”

“Actually,” Matchstick chimed in. “I know a couple ghost types! Not to mention a lot of ghost types make really good emo metal singers since they’re so familiar with being dead, and – ”

“Match, you’re not helping.” Erin sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you’re really, really not!” J8-Bit frowned, shrugging Erin’s arm off of his shoulder. “Listen, I already got… weird stuff done to me once. I really don’t wanna do it again.”

“So what we’ll do,” Erin suggested, “is go in, take a few pictures like Match wants, and then we go right out. We don’t touch anything, or say there’s no ghosts, or have sex – and none of us die. That good?”

“Yeah, we’ll only be in there for a few minutes!” Matchstick grinned and pulled out his phone, ready to take pictures of all the things that the musician had left behind.

“…Okay, fine. But the second something spooky happens, we’re out, okay?” J8-Bit sighed as the other two agreed with him. He really didn’t want to do any of this, but he couldn’t just leave them alone out here. He was, unfortunately, the mom friend, and he was going to have to babysit them.

The door creaked open easily as Matchstick pushed on it, the quilava’s thick thighs brushing against the doorframe as he entered, smearing his shorts with just the slightest bit of dust. He was much too fascinated with the house, however, choosing instead to point his phone at everything and anything he saw. His ramblings filled the hallways and rooms, every word energetic and excited.

As J8-Bit stepped inside, he heard a slight gust of wind behind him – and then felt something brush against his stinger, making his knees wobble as it jiggled back and forth. With a slam, the door shut behind them.

“I-I told you! Something s-spooky was gonna happen!” J8-Bit immediately went to pull on the doorknob, twisting and turning it, eyes wide as he found it locked and unmoving. “We’re trapped!”

“Uh, no, we’re not.” Erin rolled his eyes, laying a bright pink paw on top of J8-Bit’s hand. “Just unlock the door, dummy.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” J8-Bit gulped, his face flushing slightly. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of memories of the beehive he had been trapped in before, and slowly turned the rusty lock.

Snap, clatter, clatter.

The lock on the door had broken clean off, leaving the bolt stuck in the door frame with no way of moving it.

“Oh! Yeah! Right!” J8-Bit repeated, increasingly loudly. “Great advice!”

“J-Jeeze, Jatey, you don’t gotta be so mad! It’s an… old house, is all.” Erin gulped. He wanted to believe his words, too. It wasn’t so far-fetched, after all. “We’ll just find a different way out. This place is like a mansion, right? So it’s super easy to find other doors…”

“Actually, there’s a whole song about all the doors here! The artist made it as a tribute to how confusing the house was, and it ended up being the reason why he sold it, especially since he wasn’t doing well financially, and –”

“Matchstick, you’re not helping.”

“You’re really, really not…” J8-Bit sighed heavily, plodding forwards and leading the group. “Come on. Let’s look for a way out, I guess…”

J8-Bit led the way, Erin following ever closer behind him, with Matchstick taking up the rear. The house only seemed to get darker, even when windows were present. It was getting awfully late, and it seemed that Erin sensed that, because J8-Bit found his heels getting stepped on more and more.

“Could you please watch where you’re walking?!”

“What?” Erin tried his best to look startled, and put a conspicuous amount of space between himself and J8-Bit. “I don’t know what you mean! I’m not scared! N-No way!”

“I didn’t say anything about being scared.”

“W-Well… I’m not!” Even through his pink fur, J8-Bit could see him blushing.

“Whatever, just… listen, we’ve gotta find a way out of here soon. It’s getting late, and I heard it’s going to storm, so – ”

Just as J8-Bit gave warning, raindrops began pelting the barred windows of the house, and a low rumble echoed all around them. There was a flash of white light, and a near-deafening roar that shook the foundation of the building. However, as terrifying as the storm appearing was, it had the one grace of restoring power to the otherwise decrepit house.

As lights flickered on one after the other, the group stared in wide-eyed wonder as the tarnished home began to repair itself. There was a cacophony of creaking and rustling as floorboards shifted back into place, paintings restored themselves in seconds, and sheets of wallpaper became smooth and pristine once more.

Three separate hallways stood before them. Candelabras lit themselves in sequence, giving off the illusion that the fire was somehow travelling and lighting each one by sheer force of will. J8-Bit stepped back, getting behind his two friends, and Erin clutched Matchstick close.

“T-This is like, totes way too real!” Erin squeaked, his normally deep voice now a higher pitch. “I can’t do this!” He shifted his weight nervously, looking back and forth between the hallways.

“Sooo coool…” Matchstick stared in wide-eyed awe as he held up his phone, snapping photo after photo. “It looks just like it did in the music videos!”

“Music… videos?” J8-Bit tilted his head.

“Yeah! That’s the basement, over there,” Matchstick pointed left. “That’s the arcade,” Matchstick pointed dead ahead. “And that over there is the kitchen!” Matchstick pointed right. “There’s a whole sequence of him destroying everything… never would have thought it was all so reversible!”

J8-Bit sighed, slightly satisfied by Matchstick’s explanation of the otherworldly events that had just occurred.

“At least that explains that… but why would he leave all this stuff so active, then?”

“Music video sets aren’t cheap to make,” Matchstick chirped. “And they’re probably even more expensive to disassemble safely. But come on, let’s explore!” Matchstick took off running towards the basement, his bouncing ass drawing the eyes of the other two boys.

“How do you even get that kind of ass?! It’s not fair,” Erin whispered to J8-Bit.

“I have no idea. Even when I was a beeboy, it wasn’t that thick.”

The two of them moved to catch up with Matchstick, plodding down the stairs quickly, only to find Matchstick standing in the middle of the basement, admiring all the many barrels and bottles that were left behind.

“Looks like a wine cellar,” J8-Bit mumbled, having flashbacks to his Amnesia playthroughs as he hugged himself. “Maybe we shouldn’t stick around down here too long… after all, there’s no doors out, right? That’s what we’re trying to find. I can’t even see, it’s so dark…”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Erin laughed, as if he hadn’t hidden behind the other two interlopers when the storm had started. “Here, I’ll help you out.” Erin grinned, flicking on a lightswitch–and gasped.

Above Matchstick, seemingly perfectly placed, was a gigantic, writhing mass of slugs. Each several feet long and nearly half a foot across at their thickest points. Select few had trailed off to lap at the oozing barrels of sugary booze, leaving thick green slime in their wake. The mass of slugs, backlit by the light bulb behind them, began to disassemble in response to the bright light. Two sickening plops echoed through the room as a pair of them fell, narrowly missing Matchstick, who turned around at the sound.

“Did you guys say something? Sorry, I was so into it, this is just so –”

A much louder, much wetter plop echoed through the house as the entire mass of slugs just about flattened Matchstick.

“Holy shit!” J8-Bit could only swear–no rational thought came to mind as he clutched and pulled at his ears. “Matchstick, is he, are you – Shit! I told you this place was bad news!” He turned to Erin, jabbing his chest with a finger – but Erin’s eyes were just as wide as his own.

“M-Match! Matchy boy! If you’re alive in there, give us a holler?!” Erin tried to take control of the situation – as if he could be calm in this kind of situation. J8-Bit and Erin both knew that was a lie.

“Mmmf!” A muffled cry came from the pile as suddenly the quilava’s head surfaced, a slug or two still wrapped around his neck. “I-I’m okay! Just really slimy!” Both J8-Bit and Erin let out a sigh of relief, only to have to gasp once more. As Matchstick spoke to them with a smile, one of the enormous slugs was curling around his head, and another dove into his ear, sliding and pulsing its way deep into his head. “W-Woah, that’s cold! Hey, get outta there, you… You…” Matchstick’s movements slowed as he sunk below the pile of shimmering green slugs once more, mouth wide open. Slug after slug entered him, through whatever avenue they could find: his ears, his mouth… and it almost seemed that whatever cursed entity possessed this house was taunting Matchstick’s friends, making them watch as the slugs entered his ass in plain sight of them.

The pile was shrinking, but the gasps and gagging noises from the three of them were only growing, especially from Matchstick. When they could finally bear to make themselves look, they witnessed the last slug slide its thick, gooey body up Match’s now stretched and slimy hole… and saw his tummy wiggling with dozens of new, throbbing shapes.

“Matchy…?” Erin squeaked, his eyes brimming with tears. He would say it was from the gagging, of course.

But J8-Bit and Erin both knew that was a lie.

“Unnngh…” Matchstick sat upright, his flames flickering, smothered by the slimy goo that now covered him head to toe. It was difficult, if not impossible, to make out any of his facial features under the thick layer of goo. Even as he opened his mouth, his tongue was dripping in similarly obfuscating slime. “G-Guys…? Guys, what’s wrong…?” Almost as if Matchstick had no clue what had just happened, he stood up and tensed, forcing his flames to come back to life.

Of course, no such thing happened. Instead, there was a deep and thick bubbling sound, followed by a cascade of slug slime pouring from where Matchstick’s flames would usually be present. A thick puddle began to spread around him, a slick and wet thud signifying the appearance of an enormous and near-gelatinous tail.

“Match… Match, don’t come any closer!” Erin hid behind J8-Bit, his voice pitching higher, his tears plainly visible.

“Erin, you look… scared.” Matchstick’s voice dipped downwards from its constant excitement for the first time since they’d come here. He rapidly began approaching, the slug slime pouring down his back and leaving a thick trail. Looking at him dead-on, J8-Bit and Erin could see his cock slide away from its stuck position on his gooey thigh, and nearly screamed. The cock itself was a thick, two foot long slug, dripping with the same ooze as their friend. It stretched and strained, wanting nothing more than to reach the other boys.

“No!” J8-Bit yelped, finally gaining control of himself. He’d played Left 4 Dead, and he knew what happened if you froze in fear – you died. Horribly. He grabbed Erin’s hand, only an inch away from his own at that point, and tugged him back up the stairs, his paws stomping on the creaky wood. Matchstick, despite his new and weighty additions, didn’t seem to be any slower as he ran after them.

“Guys, wait! Where are you going?! I just wanna give you a hug!” Every word was distorted by the thick slime covering him, and as he ran after the boys, he felt his instincts shift from protective to something slightly more insidious–almost like he needed to catch them. That much made sense! He wanted to give them a hug… but for some reason, it was getting harder to imagine hugging them so sweetly. So lost in his thoughts was he that Matchstick hardly even noticed his enormous and sluggy body speeding along the smooth walls of the house, following them faster and faster, closing the distance between them.

J8-Bit dove into the next hallway, following the blue flames of the candelabras into a darker portion of the house. The arcade, if he remembered Matchstick’s speech correctly. No, this wasn’t a good time to think about him. Not now, not after… that.

He threw the door open, pulling Erin inside before slamming the door shut, and scanned the room quickly.

“There! Help me move this!”

“But–”

“Not now!”

J8-Bit threw himself against an arcade cabinet, finding it move easily with Erin’s help. It came to its destination just in time, blocking the door to the arcade entirely. Soft, squishy banging noises reverberated through the hallway, echoing back a pitch lower.

“Guuuys… No, you need hugs… I’ll hug you lots… Make you feel safe and warm…”

It was becoming increasingly obvious to J8-Bit that a piece of Matchstick remained underneath his slug-like exterior, but that the slugs were feeding off of that motivation. Soon, it would be gone. He could feel his heart dropping as he looked at the growing puddle of slime that came from underneath the door.

“Okay.” J8-Bit wiped the sweat from his brow and sniffled, trying not to cry any more than he could manage. Erin didn’t even try to pretend, anymore. His shoulders were heaving and his eyes were red and puffy.

“…I wanna leave.”

“Me too, buddy.” J8-Bit patted him on the back, knowing that crying with him would only make things worse for the both of them. He had to be strong for now, no matter how much he wanted the waterworks to flow. “Let’s look for a door. We can come back for Matchstick later.” Erin nodded at his suggestion, and began to walk around the many arcade cabinets.

As J8-Bit searched the rows himself, he found himself reading the titles of the cabinets: House of the Dead I, II, and III (how fitting); Super Goatboy Deluxe; and one that read…

“J8-Bit Gaming?” He read it out loud, squinting–and then he and Erin let out a synchronized scream as a loud thunderclap shook the entire house once more. Every arcade cabinet powered up, blaring theme music, flashing as brightly as they could, and displaying their games, all vying for J8-Bit’s attention. He covered his ears, eyes hardly able to focus–but he had to. The games all around him began to move their joysticks on their own, their buttons pressed by some unseen force, each one racking up enormous amounts of points, blaring tones for every new high score – all except for one.

The cabinet in front of him that read ‘J8-Bit Gaming’ was displaying a simplistic pixel art version of each of the three friends–Matchstick, Erin, and himself. A large, green blob fell from the top of the screen, covering Matchstick and causing him to flicker into blackness. A large red X appeared where he had been, and a dark purple dragon-like face appeared in the background, laughing wildly. A dark purple claw then reached into the foreground, plucking Erin off-screen…

“Erin!” J8-Bit uncovered his ears, running over to where he’d last seen his friend, and saw just the slightest hint of a pink tail running into a large, boxed-in game room. The door slammed shut behind him, and J8-Bit was face-to-face with the same dragon face decal he had seen before. Though it was unmoving, he could still hear the laugh. The door shutting caused the decal to fall to the floor, revealing a glass window behind it. J8-Bit rushed up to the door, trying to turn the handle, bang on the door, and scream Erin’s name to get his attention – but Erin couldn’t seem to hear him.

Inside, Erin finally found reprieve from the cacophony of arcade noises, rubbing his ears. The room was entirely black, save for a single chair and a large LCD screen. Presumably, this was an immersive shooter. He’d dealt with them before, but he wasn’t too into them. Too scary. He looked back the way he came, realizing he’d left J8-Bit to his own devices, and went to try the door to offer him refuge. When he found it locked, he sighed and shook his head, looking into the barely-illuminated mirror on the door. What a weird place for a mirror.

On the other side, J8-Bit called over the racket of the machines, pounding on the door with his fist. He was looking right through the window, and Erin didn’t even seem to notice him, instead choosing to preen his fur for a moment before turning away.

Erin sighed and felt along the walls, looking for some other door or opening, finding none. Even the LCD screen was flush with the wall. He wouldn’t be able to pull out the TV, even if he had wanted to.

“I guess I just… wait.” Erin admitted defeat, and sat down in the chair in the center. “Maybe I’ll at least get to play something.”

No sooner had he finished that sentence than had robotic arms flown out of the floor and ceiling, slamming a black motorcycle helmet onto Erin’s head, the matte shell contrasting with the glossy visor. Erin struggled, but a set of metal bands strapped him to the chair, and more arms brought other pieces out of nowhere to dress Erin further.

His shirt and shorts were torn to shreds, leaving him completely naked – but this was quickly rectified as two halves of what could only be described as a plastic speedo were put around him. He yelped a bit as he felt something slide up his ass–thin and slick, but present. He couldn’t stop his moans as it began to vibrate. His cock, now exposed, pressed against the smooth interior of the plastic speedo, unable to be touched or seen.

A thick breastplate affixed itself onto him, giving Erin’s body the appearance of a more athletic build. Leg guards and enormous, blocky boots came on soon after, followed by a flexible tail cover. He continued struggling, even as the last two pieces clicked into place, sealing themselves on his body: Two gauntlets that connected to the upper arms of his growing suit, but ending in what appeared to be the barrels of two miniguns, rendering his hands completely useless for anything else.

Inside the helmet, everything was hot and steamed up from Erin’s screams and rapid heartbeat. His eyes darted around, looking for an escape as the metal bands released him from his chair. He took a step forwards, struggling as the vibrator in his ass seemed to work to inhibit his every move. Slowly, the screen before him flickered to life.

J8-Bit couldn’t bang on the door any harder. His muscles were exhausted, his fists nearly bleeding, and his ears ringing from the blaring games in the background. He was going to watch another friend vanish before his very eyes.

Erin inspected the game carefully, heart racing like a track team all-star. Instructions appeared on the screen, and were read in a cold, high-pitched male voice.

“The game will begin after these instructions have been completed. Your goal is to eliminate enemies, and survive until the end. Should you fail to eliminate an enemy, even a single one, the punishment will be as such.”

Erin tensed as the dildo in his ass seemed to expand, vibrating and thrusting, causing him to collapse onto the floor. His gun-hands couldn’t support him at all, leaving his ass in the air and his head on the ground as he felt his prostate being pounded against over and over, until–

“H-Hhhaaaah!” Erin’s eyes rolled up as he let loose a torrent of cum, more than he had ever made, and shuddered as he felt some… device, he supposed, clean up his new uniform from the inside. If that was punishment, Erin could definitely stand to fail a few rounds, but he hadn’t heard all of it.

“Additionally, stats will be docked for poor performance. We will not initiate this now, so as to be fair to the player. After all, soldiers enter our army in tip-top condition. Please, review our hall of fame before proceeding.”  
A list of soldiers appeared, each with a photo attached to their name. Every one of them wore an encompassing VR helmet like his own, and had the same gun-hands that Erin currently possessed. Most notably, they were shifting up and down the leaderboard. Their scores were still changing…

Their games were still active.

“The game will now begin. Please recall your mission.”

As the screen slowly faded into a loading screen, Erin’s helmet began displaying a HUD. An ammo tracker, a view of his suit’s real-life movements in the bottom left, and a bar across the bottom that read ‘WP’. It was a little more than halfway full, which seemed arbitrary. He didn’t have time to contemplate that, however. This game, no matter what the goal, had heavily suggested that he wouldn’t be leaving the suit or the room until the game was completed.

It was a shame he failed on his first enemy.

He saw his face, and he just couldn’t.

He was too weak for that.

Before him, on the screen, was a crying J8-Bit, slowly dragging himself away from him in a panic, screaming his name in fear and desperation. Erin’s arms went limp as he stared at the goat boy, already wounded, and shuddered.

What if that really was J8-Bit?

What if he had to shoot his friend to leave?

No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t, he decided.

And then, in bright red text, the game displayed a simple message:

“FAILURE. DOCKING WP.”

Erin felt the vibrator surge in his ass again, falling to his knees with a clatter of plastic echoing through the room. His cock was already so sensitive that he couldn’t resist cumming again, panting and moaning as he shakily stood back up. The instructions displayed themselves again, very briefly, before loading him into another round of the game. As he entered the second round, he watched as his WP bar shook and depleted, to about half of what he originally had.

“No… I’m… I can’t.” He mumbled, his voice muffled by the thick helmet. Regardless, the game went on, showing J8-Bit in the same position as before. Helpless, bleating, frightened.

“Don’t do it!” J8-Bit pleaded, his voice coming in clearly through the speakers in the helmet. So realistic. So pained. So desperate. “Please, Erin, I know you’re in there.”

“I would never,” Erin whispered, the sound hardly audible outside of the helmet. He dropped his arms to his sides again.

“FAILURE. DOCKING WP.”

Erin collapsed once more, watching his WP bar drop to absolute zero as he was pounded even harder than before. His body shook as he came again, this load bigger than the others, threatening to seep through the cracks of the suit – but he felt the same cleaning tool from before wipe him dry once again.

“Two consecutive failures have occurred. Engaging tutorial mode.”

“T-Tutorial?!” Erin looked up at the screen, eyes wide. He thought if he didn’t play, nothing would happen. He would be subjected to this suit for the rest of his life if it meant he didn’t have to kill his friend… but it seemed that wasn’t an option.

Two thick, pink tubes pressed against his ears from the inside of the helmet, and slid into his ears with surprising ease. There was a loud, clicking sound in his ears before a different, quieter sound prevailed. The noise was like an old-timey radio being tuned to a proper station, and eventually, the connection stabilized. It was with this first horror that Erin realized what the suit was doing.

It was fusing with him.

“No, no, no, get out of my head!” He brought his hands up to his face, bashing the useless minigun-hands against his helmet. His breathing became faster and faster, and the suit took notice. The next pressure that Erin felt was that of the helmet’s interior growing smaller. Something not unlike an oxygen mask strapped itself to his face, and the soft inner shell of the helmet pressed against all over parts of his face, save for the visor.

The visor, on the contrary, began displaying rapidly changing sets of images, all overlaid by a progress bar that was quickly nearing completion. He felt his feet meld with the plastic boots, his shins and thighs becoming clunky and heavy, and his chest suddenly expanding to meet with the rest of the suit’s more athletic build. Perhaps most painfully, he felt his hands slowly creaking and changing shape, until he could feel the gun as a part of himself, every individual bullet inside of him now a part of his technological nervous system.

The game started again.

Without even letting him speak, Erin’s arm raised itself of its own accord, and fired. It fired over and over, turning the goat boy into swiss cheese as Erin could do nothing but watch. When his hand finally deemed J8-Bit thoroughly defeated, it lowered itself before moving into a salute.

“SUCCESS. ENEMY DEFEATED. DEPLOYING REWARD.”

The oxygen mask on Erin’s face suddenly let out a soft burst of pink gas, and Erin held his breath. The suit, however, had other plans, manually pulling his diaphragm down, and forcing him to inhale.

It smelled like… like cotton candy, or strawberries, or bubblegum. It was delightfully sweet, and he could hardly focus on anything with it in his helmet. His visor became an opaque pink as the gas clouded the interior. A soft hiss sounded in his ears as the tubes in his head began to pump some of the pink solution into his brain, and Erin felt himself gain slight control over the suit… but less control over his thoughts.

“Soldier, do you understand your task?” The game inquired, blaring through his speakers. Not his suit’s speakers. His. Unquestionably his. As he moved to respond in his pink-fogged haze, a pair of cat-like ears popped out of the top of the helmet, speakers embedded within their plastic casings.

“Affirmative,” Erin responded, his light and delicate voice translated into cold and emotionally dead robospeak. “All targets must be incapacitated with special ammunition. Please provide the necessary materials.”

Erin held up his arms, not even knowing what he was saying. It was so strange to be controlled like this… but was he actually controlling it? Another burst of pink gas and fluid quickly told him he wasn’t – but also that he could be controlling it, very soon.

The robotic arms from before quickly swapped out Erin’s ammo, turning them from digital bullets to real, solid capsules. Erin carefully fired a test shot at one of the hands, covering it in sticky, pink goo. The hand was immediately tangled, held in place as the pink goo throbbed and grew, continuing its way up the arm and eventually encasing it entirely.

“Unit 3R1N, ready for duty,” Erin said, his eyes half-lidded. “J8-Bit will be secured.” In his head, Erin thought he would simply wrap J8-Bit up and take him home, even if it meant that he would be stuck in this suit forever. As drunk on this fog as he was, he could never hurt J8-Bit. Just watching him get shot earlier was horrifying. Making sure he was secure would be much more comforting.

Securing the objective was very comforting. High scores were comforting. Doing his very best for the mission was comforting. He would make sure J8-Bit was super secure!

J8-Bit sighed with relief as he finally saw Erin’s session end. The suited-up boy slowly walked towards the door, and J8-Bit expected his helmet to come right off. It was all too surprising when the door was kicked open, sending him flying back into an arcade machine that had somehow appeared behind him: J8-Bit Gaming.

The screen flickered to life, showing a laughing dragon face once more as Erin’s sprite was suddenly covered head to toe with the VR gear, and he flickered out of existence as well, replaced by a giant red X.

His friend was gone.

No sooner had that truth crossed his mind than had another door been broken down. The arcade cabinet in front of the main door toppled over, its screen cracking as it thudded against the carpet. Matchstick slithered over it, covering it in slime, his mouth hanging open as he approached the two of them.

“Huuug… huuuug… big huuug…” Matchstick’s last sentient words seemed to have imprinted on his slug-addled brain, causing him to repeat them over and over as he slid over towards the two boys.

“C’mon, J8-Bit! Let’s get outta here!” That’s what Erin wanted to say. What came out was:

“Surrender yourself at once. Escape is futile.” His arm swung up, and something clicked in Erin’s brain as he himself pulled the trigger. The suit had set up the shot so nicely, and he couldn’t miss such an opportunity for an immense headshot bonus!

J8-Bit ducked out of the way just in time, rolling on the floor and bouncing off his own stinger to jump past where Matchstick was. His feet hit the ground running, and he sprinted down the hallway as fast as he could. Checking over his shoulder, he could see Erin struggling against Matchstick, his bullets sinking into the slug boy and doing nothing against his gelatinous body.

“Huuug…”

“Unit 3R1N experiencing civilian contact. Assist. Assist.”

The cold robotic voice told J8-Bit that he was too far from saving, and the goat boy wiped away his tears as best he could before skidding around the corner. He panted, his chest burning as he ran faster than ever before, and dove into the kitchen. It was his last hope. His last refuge.

The door shut behind him, and locked with a small ‘click’.

He collapsed onto the floor, panting as his eyes refocused and adjusted to the new, bright lighting. He looked up and gasped, his entire body relaxing as he saw the wonderful kitchen before him.

The storm outside had given way to sunshine, letting a golden-yellow ray of honey filter in through the window. On the stovetop, breakfast was frying and bubbling away. Sausages, bacon, pancakes, and toast with jam and honey. Steam gently floated up from the stovetop, curling in the air and dancing on the sunbeams. On the counter was a basket of fresh fruit, and there were two placemats with silverware neatly set on top of them. The room was warm, smelled of home-cooked food, and the light was so refreshing after a night in darkness.

“Hello.”

J8-Bit turned around, somehow feeling his fear drain from him. Even if he wanted to be surprised, his adrenaline was spent. He had nothing left to give in terms of fight or flight. In front of him stood the tall, large-hipped, and purple dragon from J8-Bit Gaming. His smile was softer than the sprite had led him to believe, and his claws were gentle as he led J8-Bit to the counter, sitting him down and serving him steaming hot food. He grabbed two slices of toast, slathering one with grape jelly and the other with orange marmalade, setting each one on J8-Bit’s plate as he finished.

“You’ve done very well to make it this far. I didn’t think anyone would get past one of my traps, much less two.”

“The gimmick… was sort of obvious,” J8-Bit admitted, strangely at ease, even if he was speaking with the mastermind of the house. It felt like this was an extra scene in a video game. A secret ending. “If Matchstick or Erin got to me, it seemed like I’d join them quickly.”

“See? Gosh, I made this whole entire house, and you outsmarted me at pretty much every turn. I didn’t expect you to be here at all! And here I was, just making breakfast.”

“You made the house?”

“Of course! The music video, the wikipedia article, the actual house… it’s all fake, in a way. I made it up because, no offense, Matchstick is an idiot. You could tell him that the world was a cube and he’d believe you.”

“A bit harsh,” J8-Bit said, putting his slices of toast together and biting into the delightfully sweet sandwich. “But honestly, fair.”

“He brought you here, I got my pet and my servant, and all was well. Except for you, I suppose. You win!”

“I win?” J8-Bit looked down at his sandwich, sighing. A slight drip of orange marmalade landed on the plate. This sandwich sure was messy.

“Of course! You’re so smart, you got through everything… you didn’t even want to come here! If anything, you deserve to be the one to leave.”

“…Really?” J8-Bit’s eyes widened in disbelief. He dropped the sandwich, half-eaten, and enormous globs of grape jelly and orange marmalade went flying, coating his entire plate.

“Of course! There’s the door, right there. Thanks for visiting Lusty’s House of Horrors. Sorry your friends didn’t have better luck.” Lusty winked, not a hint of regret in his eyes as he gestured to the large oak door behind him.

J8-Bit contemplated his situation. Behind him, his friends were a slug and a robot. There wasn’t much saving them, and doing so would be dangerous. He nearly met three different horrible ends in a singular room. Outside, he might be able to get help to come back for them. That’s what he had told Erin he would do, and it was the most logical option. He sighed.

“Thanks for the meal,” he said, trying not to sound ungrateful. He wasn’t happy with Lusty, but he couldn’t do anything for now. He stood up, and moved towards the door–

Splat.

J8-Bit suddenly found himself on the floor, and he looked back over his shoulder. Had he tripped on something? The floor was empty, but his legs… his legs were slimy and melting, his clothes slowly beginning to vanish and dissolve in him as the goop on him crawled up his legs.

“W-What is… what did…”

It was then that J8-Bit realized something horrifying.

If he truly hadn’t been expected, there never would have been two plates.

He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

“Ohhh, you silly goat boy!” Lusty bent down, giggling as he dipped a claw into each of J8-Bit’s legs, sampling the delicious orange and purple goop from each side of him. It seemed he was cleanly split right down the middle, where his body was holding together properly. Everything below his knees was a messy and mixed puddle of sweet goo.

“N-No, no!” For the first time, J8-Bit felt his confidence breaking. “I-I don’t… no, you can’t do this to all of us!”

“Oh, Jatey…” Lusty giggled, using the name he’d heard just hours earlier. “I’m greedy, can’t you tell? I only needed one slug to make Matchy what he is now, and I didn’t even need that whole psychological setup for Erin, either! I’m doing this,” Lusty grinned as he crawled forwards, straddling J8-Bit’s melting body. “For fun. So calm down, sweetie… it’s just a game.”

Lusty cupped his cheek with one hand, and kissed him softly, letting their tongues mingle. J8-Bit could taste his own slime, each flavor unfolding like a flower in the morning, each movement of Lusty’s tongue seeming to wear away at his unease. He stopped resisting. In time, he began reciprocating. He couldn’t get enough of Lusty’s amazing tongue, the dragon continuing to kiss him deeper and deeper. The slime crawling up his body didn’t matter anymore. Nothing existed outside of this kiss, this kiss that was making his insides feel so warm, his heart so full, and his head so… pressurized…?

Lusty used his hands to move the other’s ears upwards as he kissed the goat boy, leaving J8-Bit to wonder just what that was for – and immediately finding out. With a single plunge of his tongue and a pleasurable shudder from J8-Bit, slime shot out of his ears as the kisses turned his brain to nothing but slime and sweet goop. Orange marmalade out one ear, grape jelly out of the other, coating his face and the floor around him, making him shudder and squirm. His body slowly acquiesced to the changes, his entire lower half nothing but a puddle of goop and his upper half a loosely-held and dripping goat boy slime.

“There we go.” Lusty smiled and pulled away, sticky syrupy slime still connecting their lips.

“I… feel so different…” J8-Bit moved his arm, feeling it react sluggishly, dripping as it moved. “This is… nice, but…”

“Oh, it’s not over, Jatey.” Lusty giggled, standing up. “Your new friends need to say hello.”

The door swung open, and J8-Bit was immediately set upon by an enormous slug boy, a slug cock slamming into his jelly center and pulsing deep inside of him. Matchstick groaned and spread over him, their slime mixing and melding, causing them both to gasp and squirm on each other.

“H-Huuugs… hugs for J8-Bit…”

“U-Uhhhn!” J8-Bit felt himself slipping. “M-Matchst… Matchy! Y-You’re inside of me!”

“Hugs… b-breed… eggs…” Matchstick panted, his goeey face dripping onto J8-Bit’s as his slug cock began to pump bulge after bulge through its shaft, depositing enormous and slick eggs deep inside the slime boy. With every egg, J8-Bit felt his new identity being cemented into place.

“Matchy, you’re putting eggs in–”

Slorp.

“Matchy, you’re filling me–”

Slorp.

“M-Matchy… more eggs…?”

Slorp.

“More eggs, Matchy! More, more!”  
Standing above him, Erin gazed down through his visor, and spoke in his robotic voice once more. Suddenly, it seemed so endearing to him.

“Subject is no longer a threat. Target has been incapacitated using alternative methods.” A click and a whirr signalled his guns powering down. “Target surveillance and care will now begin. Score must be increased.”

“Haha, silly Erin!”

“Unit 3R1N has no name.”

J8-Bit blew a raspberry, the sheer denial of both of his friend’s identities causing another gush of delicious, slimy goodness to spray from his ears.

“That’s sillyyy! Everyone’s got a name! All the babies Matchy and I are gonna have will have so many names.”

“Unit 3R1N has no name.”

“Like, I’m gonna name this one Erin, and this one Jatey, and this one will be Matchy, and…”

“Hugs… breed…”

Lusty snickered at the cacophony of voices, each of their personalities meshing together so well, even if none of them were listening to each other. His new pets and robo-servant were more than he could ever ask for – and it was so fun to make them!

As he contemplated the three of them, he realized that they wouldn’t be satisfied simply living on their own. No, they needed company. Like-minded drones and slimes and slugs.

“I suppose I can remain in this world for a time… as can my wonderful creation.” Lusty waved his hand, summoning up a mystical screen that floated in front of him. “Perhaps we shall share this same fake article with… Oh, how to choose?” Lusty looked over his list of potential candidates carefully, before tapping ‘send all’, closing the window, and cackling.

“That’s right–I almost forgot. I don’t have to choose, and soon…” Lusty smiled at his pile of wonderful boys. “None of them will be able to.”


End file.
